


A Blur of Conquerors

by generalekenobi



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27092809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/generalekenobi/pseuds/generalekenobi
Summary: Iritapa wasn’t even supposed to be populated. Nowhere in their intel mentioned an established populace, let alone the presence of a planetary militia. It wasn’t like Geonosis, not at all. There, they’d known from the jump they would likely be fighting sentients. Iritapa? It was just a backwater moon that hosted a small Seperatist outpost, exactly like a million others. It wasn’t slated as a colony of it’s sister moon Orana on their intel. There was no reason for them to suspect otherwise.Cody shivers as he stands in the goldenwheat field, helmet abandoned at his feet. It’s the area with the least amount of corpses. They’re still present - he can track the clear trails where a squad of insurgents had tried to cut through the field. Tried, because he can see the abrupt end to each blazed trail through the grain, the scorched earth where a trooper with a rotary blaster had laid waste to them. This view is still preferable to the actual battlefield. At least here he can’t see any vode.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody & Obi-Wan Kenobi, CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 75





	A Blur of Conquerors

**Author's Note:**

> I refuse to believe that Umbara and Geonosis are the only two planets in the entire war where the troops fought the locals. I started reading Richard Siken's Landscape With a Blur of Conquerors and got inspired to take a ride on the pain train.

Iritapa wasn’t even supposed to be populated. Nowhere in their intel mentioned an established populace, let alone the presence of a planetary militia. It wasn’t like Geonosis, not at all. There, they’d known from the jump they would likely be fighting sentients. Iritapa? It was just a backwater moon that hosted a small Seperatist outpost, exactly like a million others. It wasn’t slated as a colony of it’s sister moon Orana on their intel. There was no reason for them to suspect otherwise.

Cody shivers as he stands in the goldenwheat field, helmet abandoned at his feet. It’s the area with the least amount of corpses. They’re still present - he can track the clear trails where a squad of insurgents had tried to cut through the field. _Tried_ , because he can see the abrupt end to each blazed trail through the grain, the scorched earth where a trooper with a rotary blaster had laid waste to them. This view is still preferable to the actual battlefield. At least here he can’t see any vode.

He knows he should be seeing to the cleanup, helping with the funeral pyres, writing up his reports, _something_ other than standing in a field and shivering in the late day sun. He knows his warning signs, though, knows when he’s walking that fine line between overwrought and uncontrolled. Breaking down in front of the men would lower morale. Hence, he’s removed himself so that if he shakes apart, there’s no one to see. Cody realizes he’s not alone as he hears footsteps behind him. Probably Boil.

“I’m fine, vod,” he lies. 

“No, you’re not,” General Kenobi answers, and Cody doesn’t even bother suppressing his flinch. Neither speak for a moment as Kenobi comess to stand next to Cody, arms crossed.

“I have to be, sir,” Cody says, and can see Obi-Wan turn to study him. He tries to stop shivering.

“Cody,” General Kenobi sighs. “You lost Linker mid-joke to a sniper. I would be concerned enough for you over that, let alone… the rest. It is okay not to be okay,” he says, and suddenly he’s angry. He can’t stand the General’s kindness, not when he’s such a hypocrite about his own mental health. Cody? He’s managing. His General, on the other hand? Barely functioning at any given time. He turns, eyes aflame, and stares at his CO.

“Learn to take your own advice before giving it to others, jetii.” Cody snarls, and immediately regrets it. He’s acting beyond childish, and he doesn’t expect Kenobi to stand there and just… just take the abuse. That’s exactly what he does though, with a hollowed out look to his face. Cody bites his tongue so hard he tastes blood. He can’t _stand_ seeing his General so lifeless, it’s enough to turn his stomach. If Cody is struggling with the lives he took today, he can only imagine how Kenobi is faring. It’s one thing to point and shoot at someone, it’s another thing entirely to take a plasma blade to them at close range. 

Cody was bred to kill. Kenobi was a peacekeeper. Killing doesn’t come natural to him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

General Kenobi chuckles lowly at that. He doesn’t meet Cody’s eyes.

“Yes, you did. It is fine, Cody, really.” He replies, and suddenly Cody’s tired. He’s tired of fighting, of the daily slog, of all the blood on his hands, and he’s tired of disappointing his General. Force knows Kenobi only deserves the very best in life.

“Doesn’t mean that was the best way to say it, sir,” Cody says, and Kenobi doesn’t react more than an indifferent shrug. Cody pulls himself together and faces his General, really taking in how he is. He looks even worse than Cody does. Kenobi’s robes are ruined, singed from the heat of the fires that blazed in most of the fields, his hands are covered in the moon’s pale mud, and his gauntlets are smeared with dried blood, whether from an Iritapan or one of the troopers, Cody can’t say. His shoulders, usually held high and prim and proper, slouch as if he’s holding the whole of the galaxy on his back. Kenobi’s copper hair is limp and sweaty, his complexion is wan, and his eyes are dead and unfocused like the eyes of a corpse. Cody steps forwards, wanting to shield Kenobi from where he’s staring at the bloody corpses in the field with a look so distant he might as well be looking at the next sector.

All of this stands in contrast to how vibrant and carefree he was three days prior. They’d been in the officer’s lounge alone together, splitting a large pack of ne’tra gal that Kenobi had discovered gods know where. Kenobi was tired - he always was - but even without the Force, Cody could sense how damn happy he was. Five beers in, and they’d decided to freshen up the paint on Cody’s armor, something he’d only ever done with brothers before. There was something almost sacred about the act in the eyes of a people who had so little choice in their lives. Being able to emblazon themselves with both the markings of their battalion and of their choosing was an affirmation of their personhood in a way that white plastoid could never be. 

He’d started on his gauntlet, handing his chestplate to Kenobi without a second glance. He was just about to start on his second piece before he realized that Kenobi was still working on his chestplate, painting intricate letters onto the old orange with fresh paint. They disappeared as they dried. 

“What are you doing, General?” he asked, and Kenobi looked up, somewhat flustered.

“Oh, I hope this is all right. I am painting ancient Jedi runes onto them, which I’ll cover up with a final layer of paint. You won’t even know they are there. They… well, most say that it’s just superstition, but they are intended to protect the wearer. I was quite fascinated with them as a padawan,” he said, blushing, and it was such a fascinating sight that Cody had taken a moment to answer.

“General-”

“Obi-Wan. I would like it if you called me Obi-Wan out of the field,” Obi-Wan said, which caused Cody's face to go hot. He cleared his throat.

“Obi-Wan, then. The vode and I live off superstition. If someone’s armor cracks for no reason, it’s six months of bad luck. You lose two left socks in a row? You’re going to be visiting medical next campaign. If your HUD malfunctions three times in a day, it's a sign that someone in your squad is going to die within the month. If the grounds in your caf stick only to the sides of the cup, victory is certain,” Cody said and watched Obi-Wan’s eyebrows raise.

“I had no idea. I will endeavor not to lose any more socks, then,” he said with a smile, before they both went back to painting.

Cody shakes himself out of his reverie. There’s no time to reminisce, Kenobi needs him. He’s still even more out of it than Cody, and like hell is he going to let his own issues keep him from helping his General.

“Obi-Wan,” he says gently, using his name in hopes of breaking through to him. He finds himself staring into Obi-Wan’s blue eyes when he focuses on Cody’s face. Cody reaches out jerkily, forcing himself to place a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder in hopes of comforting him. Obi-Wan closes his eyes and places his hand over top Cody’s to return the gesture. Cody can see a hairline fracture throughout his own gauntlet - the one Obi-Wan hadn’t painted. The integrity of the piece is shot, and he’ll have to requisition a new one and deal with the bad luck.

“Are you alright? I know you were on Geonosis, but-”

“I will be fine, Cody. This is hardly the first war I’ve fought in.” Obi-Wan says, flicking his tired eyes open to stare at his Commander. Cody cocks his head, completely blindsided that Obi-Wan the peacekeeper had been a vet before the War even started.

“How old were you?”

Obi-Wan gives a bitter smile.

“Not much older than you, I suppose. My comrades were about the same,” Obi-Wan says, like being a child soldier was normal. Well, perhaps it was for Jedi. Cody doesn’t have much room to talk, what with being twelve.

“I’m sorry,” Cody says anyways, meaning it. Obi-Wan nods and drops his hand.

“It was a long time ago. Today just… brought up memories, I suppose. How are you, Cody?” Obi-Wan asks, changing the subject. Cody allows it, appreciating that Obi-Wan at least talked about it.

“Shit. I’m shit, but I’ll be alright once I get a few drinks in me,” he says candidly, and Obi-Wan gives a more genuine smile.

“That makes two of us, Commander. I have some tihaar in my bag. Would you like to split the bottle?” Obi-Wan asks, and Cody smiles before leaning down to pick up his helmet. 

“I’d like that very much, Obi-Wan.”


End file.
